


Still You

by Caedmon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Internal Conflict, Post Regeneration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 22:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16146422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: The Doctor has lots to do after he regenerates into a she. But the most important thing she has to do is find out if her wife still loves her.





	Still You

**Author's Note:**

> Pronouns are hard.
> 
> Thank you to Rose--Nebula and AmeliaPonders for the beta work!
> 
> The only thing I own are the mistakes. Doctor Who belongs to the BBC!

The Doctor stood in the middle of Rose’s side of the wardrobe, looking around at the aisles and aisles of clothing available. This regeneration was his first time in this area for any length of time - usually, in past regenerations, he only had to come to this side when Rose was taking too long picking something out to wear. But now he was a she, and this was going to be _her_ side of the wardrobe, as well. He’d - _she’d_ \- never paid much attention to the clothing here, not needing to know anything beyond the fact that Rose always looked stunning every time she emerged. But now… now she had to find some women’s clothes to wear, and needed to do it soon. Rose was waiting.

 _Rose._ She been unusually quiet about this regeneration, and the Doctor couldn’t help the insecurity that gnawed at her. Her companion and wife had adapted fairly well when the Doctor had regenerated from the man in pinstripes to the man in tweed, taking only a little while to acclimate. The transition had been even easier when changing from bowties to velvet frock coats - Rose had seemed to genuinely enjoy him as an older bloke. She’d ruffled his silver hair and laughed at his grumping, and they’d been as blissfully in love as they’d always been. 

But now… now the Doctor was back to looking near Rose’s age. That much was fine, the Doctor thought, Rose likely wouldn’t quibble about age, she never had, but the fact that she was now a _woman_... Bloody hell. What if her wife was entirely straight and didn’t love her anymore? 

Tears pricked the back of her eyes and the Doctor wiped them away hurriedly. Now was not the time to be worrying about this. If she didn’t love her now, the Doctor felt sure she could _make_ Rose love her again. Now she needed to handle what she’d been sent in here by her wife to do… find new clothes. 

She noted with a little consternation that the clothes over here seemed to be a bit more sparkly. Several of her past selves would have appreciated the extra flair. Perhaps that’s why the TARDIS had kept her away from this side. Wise old girl. 

But the sparkles and ruffles didn’t appeal to her now. She bypassed them and went a little further down the aisle, flipping through clothes, looking for something that caught her eye. She found she cared less about her appearance this time than in past regenerations - odd, that. She would have expected a woman to be more concerned with such things. Then she snorted to herself. Perhaps she’d used up all her vanity in past regenerations, and there was none left for this new body. 

But what would _Rose_ think? Would Rose expect her to be a fashion icon of some sort? Well-turned-out? What on Gallifrey was her wife expecting of her?

Finally, she decided that if Rose didn’t like whatever clothes she chose, she could always change later. Now, she’d do what she’d always done - pick out what seemed to speak to her in the moment. It was comforting, almost, falling back into the old habits of regeneration. 

At length, she landed on a section of clothing that appealed to her eye. Yes, these blue trousers would work. So would this, she thought, pulling out a t-shirt with stripes across the front. She stripped out of the tattered frock coat and dirty white shirt, pulling on the trousers and t-shirt. Not bad, she thought, but not complete. The trousers seemed a bit big...she needed braces. And boots. And socks! Women always wore such fun socks. And mustn’t forget a coat - with very few exceptions, he’d - _she’d_ \- always liked a nice coat. In some regenerations, it had even almost defined him. Her. Whatever. 

Blimey, that was going to take some getting used to. How must poor Rose feel?

She looked down at herself, then went to the mirror beside the door, taking in the outfit she’d picked out. She quite liked it, personally. It was quirky, it was fun, it was unusual. All of those felt like traits she’d be exhibiting this go-round. She wiggled her toes in the shoes and turned this way and that, making the coat swish. It felt _right_ on her, somehow. But Rose’s opinion would weigh heavily, and she was anxious to see what her wife thought. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her hair behind her ear and stepped out into the bedroom. 

Rose was perched on the bed, legs crossed under her, a book open in her lap. She didn’t notice when the Doctor entered the room, and the Doctor cleared her throat to catch her wife’s attention. Rose’s head snapped up and the Doctor froze. Her insides churned while Rose looked her up and down, taking her in from her feet all the way up her body to her face. Both hearts pounded in her chest while she waited, silently. 

Finally, Rose spoke. “Bit of a departure for you.”

“A bit,” she agreed. “What do you think?”

“Your ankles are going to get cold when we go to Women Wept.”

“I can put on some longer trousers.”

“You’re back to long jackets, I see.”

“They make for handy blankets when we have picnics.”

“True.” Rose got to her feet and came over to the Doctor. “Braces again?”

“The yellow appealed to me. I think I like yellow in this body.”

“It’s a good color,” Rose agreed, smiling a little. She stopped a few feet away. “Come on, give us a twirl.”

The Doctor did as asked, turning in a slow circle with her hands extended by her side, letting Rose look her fill. 

“You stole my shirt,” Rose observed dryly.

“Did I?”

“Mhm. That t-shirt is mine.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll take it off.”

“No, don’t. Looks better on you. Is that a thing we’re going to do now?”

The Doctor looked at her, confused. “What’s that?”

“Trade clothes.”

“We can if you want.” _I’ll do anything you want,_ she thought almost desperately. _Just please still love me._

Rose tilted her head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied. 

“Don’t lie to me, Doctor. What are you worried about?”

“I’m worried you won’t love me anymore,” she said in a rush, deciding to rip the plaster off and get it over with. 

To her surprise, Rose threw her head back and laughed. “The most clever being in the universe, and you think for even a _second_ that I could stop loving you?”

“It’s a valid concern,” the Doctor protested. “I’ve always been a man before. What if you don’t--”

Rose held up a hand. “Stop. Stop right there. Nine centuries of marriage, Doctor. Nine hundred years. Almost my entire life, I’ve been with you. Do you honestly think I love you for the casing you’re in?”

She was caught out. “Well, I…”

“You’re barmy, is what you are. Yes, you’ve always been a man before. Yes, I fell in love with you as a man. But do you honestly think me so shallow that I couldn’t see the man I fell for inside of the woman I’m married to?”

It felt like the weight of the multiverse had been lifted off her shoulders. A wide smile uncurled across her whole face. “You still love me, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I love you, you daft bint. Just as much as I’ve ever loved you.” She stepped forward and draped her arms over the Doctor’s shoulders. Automatically, the Doctor slid her arms around her wife’s waist, noting how comfortable it was to hold her, in any body. 

“I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

Rose’s tongue went between her teeth. “I can’t tell you how happy _you_ make me, Doctor.” Then her eyes turned mischievous. “Although, I admit, those trousers aren’t your finest fashion moment.”

“I’ve had worse,” the Doctor smiled, wondering how long she could hold out before she kissed Rose. 

The other woman just grinned. “And I’d love you, no matter how bad the fashion. It’s still you, it’s _always_ you, and that’s all I ever need.”


End file.
